


Intent

by hangthestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Oneshot, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangthestars/pseuds/hangthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean still prays to Castiel. </p>
<p>PWP. Prayer fetish (is that a thing? it's a thing now). Short, shameless, lots of dirty words near the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intent

Prayer is all about intent.

And Dean, unreligious, _bitter_ Dean Winchester, prayed every night for over two years, even knowing that Castiel wouldn't hear, or wouldn't care or answer. It isn't even specific; some nights it's a simple and straightforward _I wish you were here_. On nights when he feels hopeless -- and those nights are often --, Dean prays for something bigger. Guidance, validation, an end to some kind of loneliness. He admits that he doesn't know what he's doing. Sometimes, he admits that he's scared. For all he knows, those prayers are being thrown into an abyss, but feeling like someone is listening is enough. Sometimes.

It doesn't stop when they find each other again. It's such a habit now, and it saves Dean the trouble of having to articulate. Prayer, he's realized, is all about intent. It's reverence, whether his head is bowed or raised, whether or not he's on his knees. When it matters the most, it's easier not to speak, and without Castiel's even, intense stare on him, Dean has an easier time letting him in on something more intimate than any love he's ever made.

Cas is always there and gone, in days if they're lucky and he can spare the time. Minutes, if he can't. But when he _is_ around...

At first, Dean can't bring himself to say out loud that he watches all the time. Tiny movements distract him. It doesn't come out of nowhere, but it happens so slowly that Dean doesn't know it until it's overwhelming. Castiel turns a book over in his hands, and Dean needs to sit down. His mouth lingers over an unfamiliar turn of phrase, and Dean wants to takes the words from Cas's lips, curl his tongue around them, put new ones in their place.

He tries not to pray when he's being touched. The instinct to look to some higher power during sex is so human that even he isn't immune to it, but he puts effort into crying out without using God's name. He never means _God_. He's never wanted Cas to hear the thoughts in his head while he's buried inside of a woman, pressing against her, smelling her hair.

But on one night -- a tired night that robbed him of his self-consciousness, or is so full of loneliness that he finally gives in --, Dean takes his cock into his hand, and in a moment of foolishness, he reaches out for Castiel. There's lust that he's never shown Cas, and there's no _wish you were here_. There's need, nothing like his need to be loved and everything like his need to sate himself in a way that means less but -aches. Instead, the words he sends into the air are _I want this to be your hand_.

Two nights later, the prayer is _I want this to be your mouth_.

Dean will happily lose himself in a skin mag or some trashy porno site, watching a woman with perfect makeup and a tight, round ass riding a dick big enough to make up for its owner's personality. He _likes_ women, and he needs something to watch or think about, to keep his mind from straying while he's rubbing one out.

He goes two weeks without porn. By day fifteen, Dean lets Castiel into his thoughts and prays for Cas's dick in his mouth, the head of it rubbing over his tongue until there's come down his throat, Cas's hands in his hair and pushing him down until he swallows. He prays for the warmth and the slick, tight hole between Cas's legs and the way he thinks Cas would arch under him, groaning as he's taken in harsh, wet thrusts. He prays with Castiel's mouth on his chest, his hand on his cock, his own orgasm all over his belly and Cas's tongue between his legs. He prays to be used and fucked and bruised, left open when Cas is finished with him, panting and hard, openly stroking himself while the angel looks on.

In the times they do see each other in person, nothing is said. Dean never acknowledges it, even if they speak in private. No one would look at Dean Winchester and think he wants an angel to fuck him, and that's exactly the way he likes it.

Mostly.


End file.
